


If you can't say no (but do)

by Bill_Longbow



Series: Kinktober [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, But there is lube, Creepy, Dark, Dom/sub Undertones, Extremely Dubious Consent, Halloween, Haunted Houses, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Magic Lube, Multi, No cellphones, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Trapped, no prep, or overtones?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:48:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27322999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bill_Longbow/pseuds/Bill_Longbow
Summary: Tony has to abandon his car in the woods at night, because there might've been a tiny car accident, due to maybe, possibly falling asleep at the wheel for a bit.Luckily, he stumbles upon a house where the owner is more than willing to see to Tony's every need. Including those dark fantasies Tony sometimes enjoys in the privacy of his own head.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Kinktober [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1510334
Comments: 37
Kudos: 214
Collections: Stuckony server spooky bingo, WinterIronShield*





	If you can't say no (but do)

**Author's Note:**

> The second installment of dubtober 2020, but this actually turned into non con, so be ware if you decide to read this! Tony clearly says no, and despite clearly enjoying what James and Bucky do to him, no is no. They are complete strangers, so there hasn't been a kink negotiations or anything like that. This is the darkest thing I've written, so proceed with caution.
> 
> Massive thank you to [Skye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skye_wyr/), best plotter, best cheerer, best friend! Also a big thank you to [Sagana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sagana_Rojana_Olt), last minute beta and sensitivity reader, and another thank you to Kabe who cheered me on when my brain convinced me everything sucked.

_"Why don't you take the car, Tony?"_

_"You deserve a break, Tony."_

_"It's nice and autumnal, you'll enjoy the ride, Tony."_

_Stupid best friends ganging up on him to take a stupid break._

The continued grumbling under his breath sort of helps to muster the energy to climb this God forsaken stupid muddy hill. 

He concedes that it might have been a dumb idea to try and drive the entire two thousand miles in one go just to spite his friends. Staying awake for forty hours might've been a piece of cake (and seven red bulls) back when he was twenty, but now even the most potent coffee couldn't keep him awake behind the wheel. Which might've led to a teeny accident. 

He's lucky he probably was going as slow as a tortoise by the time he hit that tree. But he feels anything but lucky when his expensive Italian shoe makes a hideous _squish_ sound and his ankle suddenly feels cold and wet.

Tony takes a second to try and process this like an adult, but he's cold, and hungry, and his feet hurt, and he's so tired he might as well have hallucinated the lights on the hill. 

Without warning the sky opens into a downpour, and Tony raises his face to the sky. 

"SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!" he yells at the top of his lungs, feeling slightly better he at least told the powers that be what he thinks of their planning. The flock of birds, or bats, or whatever flies around in a night time forest, that takes flight after his yell sounds creepy though, and he's not so sure yelling out loud was a genius idea. 

With difficulty, he manages to pull his foot free from the mud, and he sets off again. He's sure he saw several lights at the top of the hill, and if there's lights they probably have a phone too. If he has a phone, he can call Happy to pick him up with the chopper. Problems solved. 

The top of the hill seems farther away than he had thought, and soon he is drenched, his teeth chattering a merry little jig as he trudges on. 

All of a sudden the trees stop and he finds himself in a clearing. Tony's jaw drops at the sight that greets him. 

He's not sure what exactly he expected to find -- a hovel? hobbits? fuck, maybe even a gingerbread house -- it sure as hell wasn't a sprawling Edwardian country house. 

The whole scene is illuminated in stark contrasts for a split second -- revealing bad upkeep and a garden overgrown with weeds and thorns -- but the next moment the whole hill seems to shake with the reverberating thunder, and Tony hurries over the path towards the front entrance. 

He pauses on the second step, glad to be out of the deluge at least, but another crackle of thunder makes him take the few last steps and knock on the door. 

The door swings open when Tony's hand connects with the large, brass knocker, and Tony hesitates. 

_Well, that's not creepy at all,_ he thinks to himself, and tries to peer past where the door stands ajar, but it's dark in the hallway. 

He startles badly when the door opens further and he jumps backwards with a yell. He slips and can't catch the balustrade, and tumbles the few steps down to end up sprawled in the mud.

" _Ahhhh, fuck!_ " His ankle's on fire and he's sore all over. Not to mention the cold seeping in through his clothes that are now even more drenched than before. 

"Oh, shit, are you okay?" A long haired man, in what looks like a Hugh Heffner robe, hurries down the steps and Tony tries to scramble away. It jostles his ankle and he stifles a groan.

"Hey, easy there." The man advances with his hands outstretched like he approaches a skittish animal. "Did you… are you hurt?"

It's hard to make out the man's features in the darkness, but he doesn't _sound_ like a ghost or an axe murderer, and Tony really doesn't have a choice, does he? He didn't as soon as his car hit that tree and he woke up with a crick in his neck. 

"My ankle," Tony says, and has to almost yell to make himself heard above the rain clattering on the shingles roof. A lightning flash illuminates the man, and Tony gets a glimpse of a face that would fit very nicely in Tony's wet dreams, and he secretly thanks his (un)lucky stars. 

The man bends down to help Tony up, and together they manage to shuffle up the steps again and into a huge hall. 

When the door closes with a loud bang, the din of the rain is cut off and Tony is acutely aware of how he's panting while being held up by a runway model. He can't do much about it, when every step hurts like a mangy bitch as he hobbles with the man to the end of the hall where a door stands ajar. 

He half expects to walk into a study -- cliches are cliche for a reason -- but it's a cosy kitchen where the man leads him to a bench next to a huge table. 

Warmth comes from a large stove and a fireplace, and Tony feels himself getting drowsy, despite being hurt, soaked, and in the company of one of the most gorgeous men he has ever laid his eyes on. 

"Here," the man hands Tony a towel, to wipe the worst of the rain away from his hair and face. 

"Thank you," Tony mutters when he can see without water dripping into his eyes, and uses both hands to pull his hurt leg onto the bench.

"Can I?" The man moves to kneel on the ground at Tony's feet and gestures at his shoe, so Tony nods.

"Please," he smiles, a tentative thing, growing bolder when the man smiles back. 

Tony studies the man's face as he deftly unties the laces, but can't help let out a groan when the man pulls his foot free.

"Sorry," the man grimaces in sympathy, "I think we need to ice that…" Tony’s ankle is already swelling and the skin above his sock looks blueish.

When he stands, the man's bathrobe slips open to reveal a chest that appears to be chiseled from marble, and Tony needs to force his eyes upwards as the man seems to be waiting for some kind of reaction. 

"Oh… err… sure?" Tony answers, "I mean… please." He smiles again, both because he's never felt flustered like this in his _life_ , but also because the man grins knowingly, before turning away to rummage in the freezer. 

Everything about this feels surreal, but Tony is an old hat at finding himself in a scantily clad stranger’s house, and he kind of rolls with it. 

“Sure picked a bad day to go wandering through the woods,” the man says as he comes back, and carefully places an icepack covered in a tea towel on Tony’s ankle.

Tony hisses, and the man smiles apologetically. “It’ll hurt more without it....”

“I know, it’s okay. Thank you, again,” Tony answers and holds out his hand. “I don't believe we've been introduced?”

The man looks amused, and takes Tony's hand. "James," he says in a voice that sounds like molten gravel, and shit, Tony's really tired if he breaks out the Harlequin.

"And you are..?" 

Tony realizes he's staring at the man while still holding onto his hand, but it's the question that throws him off. 

"You don't..?" It's very rare people don't know who he is, so rare Tony hasn't encountered it in years, in fact. "Tony. Tony Stark?" He's not quite sure why he phrases his name as a question, but James doesn't comment on it. Instead, James' smile turns brighter and he gently squeezes Tony's hand. 

"Nice to meet you, Tony Stark." 

They smile at each other. James' hand is warm around Tony's, and this whole ordeal doesn't seem like such a hardship anymore. 

"It might be presumptuous, but can I offer you a set of dry clothes?"

Tony realizes he's still holding James' hand and quickly lets go, remembering for the first time since seeing the house what he came here to do. "I would… actually… do you have a phone I could use?"

James looks… disappointed? for a moment, before nodding. "We do, but it's in the living room, and that holds some expensive carpet." James smiles sadly, while not quite looking Tony up and down.

Tony looks down at himself and is acutely reminded he's drenched and covered in mud. 

"Okay, I see your point," he sighs. There isn't any harm in accepting a fresh set of clothes. Especially when it keeps him from contracting pneumonia. "Dry clothes would be nice,” he smiles.

James nods and stands, every movement graceful despite his attire. “I won’t be long.”

When James is gone Tony takes the time to look around himself. The fireplace makes the kitchen cosy, but it’s kind of barren otherwise. There’s no clutter and no knick knacks that make a kitchen a home in Tony’s mind. Not that he spends much of his time in kitchens nowadays, but Ana and Jarvis’ domain has imprinted on him. Maybe there’s no Mrs (or Mr) James to oversee stuff like this.

There’s no curtain to hide the dark and the storm outside, and suddenly Tony has the unpleasant feeling of being watched. It’s very quiet with James gone. The house must be really well isolated to keep all the noise from the storm down as it does. Now that Tony is paying attention, there’s no noise at all. Not the wind and rain from outside, no low humming of a fridge, no central heating running through the pipes. It’s just his breathing and the soft crackling of the fire. It makes the hairs on his arms stand on end, and he starts to shiver, despite his proximity to the stove.

He’s never been as glad to hear footsteps come closer as he is in that instant. “These might be a bit too large for you,” James says as he motions with his arms that hold dark clothing.

James steps closer and places the clothes on the bench beside Tony. “Do you need any help?”

It’s an innocuous question, but Tony is very aware of how close James is standing and how much bigger he is than Tony, and suddenly he’d rather be alone to change his clothes, despite wishing James would be back only seconds ago.

“I think I’ll manage,” Tony answers with a curt nod, willing his body to stop shivering.

James looks like he wants to argue, but then refrains. “I’ll be in the next room, call me if you need anything.”

When James is gone again Tony changes as quickly as he’s able to. It’s hard to pull off a skinny jeans under the best of circumstances, but a _wet_ skinny jeans is like pulling off… something that’s really hard to peel. Tony’s brain isn’t working properly anymore, sue him. Pulling it off when your ankle is two times the original size, despite the cooling, that is hell. Again, this isn’t by far the most embarrassing or difficult situation he ever found himself in, and he persists and manages to get the wretched things off without groaning too loudly. 

The pants James provided him are old fashioned pajama pants that are too long, and he has to roll up the legs. The sweater is soft and warm, and also too big, but Tony loves the way he can hide his hands in the sleeves. Being dry and warm does wonders, and now he feels silly for being scared earlier.

When he’s done and his own clothes are a sad heap on the floor, he calls out to James, who’s eyes light up when he sees Tony.

“You clean up nicely,” James grins, and Tony rolls his eyes at the cliche.

“Nice enough to use your phone?” Tony asks with his most winning smile. 

“If you don’t mind leaning on me some more?” When James moves forward his robe falls open completely, and Tony has to forcefully remind himself he’s not here to ogle the owner of the landhouse. Even if said owner apparently has abs tight enough to play a tune on. Tony’s only here to call Happy and be on his merry way.

Halfway through the hallway the whole property shudders with the loudest thunderclap Tony has ever heard, and Tony cringes when briefly all the lights flicker off and on again. 

“You’ve got storms like this often?” Tony asks, forcing a casual tone in his voice.

“Not that often. Only on special occasions,” James answers and opens a door to their left. The room behind it is shrouded in darkness, and cold air drafts from it past Tony, making him shiver despite his warm and dry clothes. 

"Sorry, I only heat the kitchen and bedroom this time of night." James flicks on a light switch, revealing the weirdest fucking living room Tony has ever stepped foot in. 

Prominently in the middle stands an actual May West lips sofa. A book lies on it, held open by reading spectacles, suggesting it's not just an arty centerpiece. Next to it is a standing lamp straight from a madame's boudoir, casting the room in a soft red glow. Two walls are filled with art work and photographs, all framed, and pieced together like an intricate puzzle; the third wall has massive bookshelves to the ceiling, framing a gothic style fireplace so big Tony could easily stand in it. 

The final wall suggests floor to ceiling windows, currently hidden from view by burgundy drapes. But it's the art lined in front of them that makes Tony stop up short. 

Half a dozen marble statues of male figures stand in various poses, from innocuous to downright lewd. One statue stands out from the rest, if only by the sheer size of it. The marble giant stands proud, looking into the room, but one hand rests on the back of the neck of a smaller statue, in a gesture that is both possessive and utterly creepy. 

"You like my collection?" James asks, halting with Tony to shoot an admiring look at them.

 _Like_ isn't the word Tony would use. _Disturbed by_ is closer to the truth, but who is he to judge someone else's past times? Playing around with life sized Barbie dolls isn't the strangest thing he's come across. 

"They certainly are something," he hedges, looking sideways at James. His ankle is throbbing something fierce now, and he sets them back in motion towards the sofa. 

The sofa is large, much larger than the original Dali thing was, and Tony has a brief but slightly hysterical thought that it could swallow him whole if the lips parted.

As Tony gets settled, James walks towards a desk in the corner Tony didn't immediately spot, and turns on one of those green library lights. It's oddly normal in the otherwise… interesting decor. The phone he picks up though, is anything but, and might well stem from the nineteen twenties.

James comes with the phone towards Tony, and places it on the couch next to him. 

" _Tada_ ," James smiles. "I'll leave you to it." With a gentle pat to Tony's thigh like they've known each other for years, James moves to stand in front of the bookcase, studying the spines.

Tony looks at the ancient phone for a moment, wondering if it'll connect to an operator, before picking up the receiver. 

When he holds it to his ear he hears a dial tone though, so he rings Happy's number by turning the dial, waiting impatiently for the dial to turn back to zero after each number. Honestly, how the previous generations didn't die of boredom Tony doesn't understand. 

He's relieved when he hears the waiting tone, despite low key wanting to get to know James better. There's something off about the house, not in the least the way the statues all seem to look at him, and knowing Happy will soon be on his way settles a tension in his chest. 

For a moment the whole room is bathed in light, despite the heavy drapes obscuring the windows, and the next second thunder makes the whole house shake violently. 

Tony startles badly enough to almost drop the receiver, and when he holds it back up to his ear the line is dead. 

_Shit shit shit_. 

He pushes the switch hook several times to no avail. 

"Something wrong?" James asks, turning around from where he is leaving through a book. 

Tony holds up the receiver at James, and puts it on the hook. “Dead. The lightning must’ve fried something. I can try and fix it for you, but it could be anywhere along the line…” He slumps against the backrest, which is surprisingly comfortable despite the odd shape.

“Oh,” James frowns, looking genuinely distraught on Tony’s behalf. “You can stay here tonight? In the morning I’ll drive you into town where you can call a tow truck for your car…” James’ smile is friendly, and the offer is very generous, but the idea that Tony has to sleep on this weird ass couch while being watched by the statues makes him want to walk to the town right away, storm and busted ankle included.

“I keep one of the guest rooms prepared, in case of visitors,” James continues, shrugging slightly. “We can light a fire there, and you’ll be snug as a bug.” His smile turns outright hopeful now, and Tony feels himself smile back. A guest room while waiting out the storm sounds really good.

James conjures a fancy wooden walking cane from behind his desk and helps Tony hobble up the stairs to the guest room -- which is plain and comfortable, much to Tony's reassurance. As Tony gets settled James lights a fire in the fireplace with practiced ease, before wishing Tony a good night and retreating to his own chamber across the hall.

Tony is warm, and comfortable -- the bed really is top notch -- and to the gentle sound of the fire crackling he falls in a deep sleep.

  
  


It’s a sound that wakes him up. It’s hard to put a name to the sound, since he’s pretty sure he never heard something like this before. It’s a screeching kind of moan, the sound stone would make if it could scream when it’s split. It’s a sound that has no place in a peaceful hilltop manor at night, but it echoes through the house, leaving Tony shivering under his blanket. 

The fire in the hearth has died down to embers, a soft glow lighting its vicinity, but the rest of the room is pitch black. 

Tony listens intently for long minutes, but he hears nothing. Maybe he dreamt it? As he lies waiting another problem presents itself. His bladder is very insistent it needs emptying. Fuck. As soon as he's home he's gonna build a metal body and upload his consciousness into that. No more bladder or busted body parts. 

He looks on his watch, 2 am. He can't have been asleep for longer than an hour or two. Damn. There's no way he can stay like this till dawn. James had pointed out the bathroom as they hobbled past, only two doors down the hall. 

Tony experimentally moves his foot, and hisses at the stab of pain that shoots out from his ankle. He's not sure he'll even make it to the bathroom even _without_ creepy ass noises. 

Another moan comes drifting from the hall, this time a regular human one. Huh. Tony never asked if someone else lived here, guess this solves that question. So he was awoken by a regular human moan, twisted by his dream into something scary. Everything is absolutely hunky dory, and he’s sure he'll feel ridiculous come morning. 

When a rhythmic thumping starts Tony is reassured -- and maybe a little aroused, his mind helpfully supplying images of James balls deep in an anonymous someone -- and he throws the blankets off to gingerly lower his feet onto the ground. 

He feels around in the dark for the cane, and hefts himself up while stifling a groan. He finds the light switch without incident, and hobbles towards the bathroom as silently as possible while pretending he doesn't hear the thumping and the moans. 

He feels a lot better once he has relieved himself, and is looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow, for a change. 

When he opens the door the thumping has ceased, and Tony's happy he doesn't have to sleep through James' sexcapades.

He shuffles back to his room, but right before he moves over the threshold the door to James' bedroom opens.

Tony decides to do the whole 'didn't hear you there' schtick and disappear into his room, but then a heavy hand falls onto his shoulder. 

“Jesus fuck, give a guy a heart attack, will you?” Tony not quite yells and turns to glare at James, his heart hammering in his chest at the sudden fright. This night is really messing with his head.

“I wanted to check if you were okay,” James answers, looking concerned, and fuck, he’s not wearing his robe anymore, displaying each and every muscle of his torso in the dim light.

“I’m fine, sorry,” Tony sighs and wipes a hand over his face. “Just been a long day, you know?”

James nods like he indeed does know, and squeezes the hand that’s still on Tony’s shoulder in what’s probably meant as a reassuring way, but which comes off as possessive. 

Tony nods his head towards his room, indicating this weird little get together is over and they should sleep, when his eye falls on something in the hall. Something very disturbing. Something that wasn’t there when he went to the bathroom.

“What’s that statue doing over there?” he asks, not caring anymore if his voice trembles or not. He must be hallucinating. There’s no other explanation. The car must’ve hit the tree harder than he thought, and right now Tony is in hospital hallucinating his ass off.

“Oh this?” James asks like a lifesize statue didn’t just appear out of nowhere. “I brought him up, because I saw you looking.”

Tony pulls his eyes away from the statue to blink at James. _Looking._ “What?”

“I saw how much you liked my baby, so I brought him here for you,” James smiles, and moves his hand from Tony’s shoulder to the back of his neck.

“No thank you,” Tony answers while pulling away with a shudder. He doesn’t know if he can lock his bedroom door from the inside, but he sure as hell is gonna try. He’ll hide and wait out this fever dream or whatever, and wake up when they lower the pain meds.

“You know you want it…” It sounds like a threat now, but before Tony can move to do… something, the statue blinks, and then slowly stretches his arms above his head, like he just woke up from a sleep.

“What the…” Tony is frozen with fear, until the marble giant opens his eyes and settles them on Tony. Tony all but jumps over the threshold of his room, unmindful of his hurt leg, and slams the door closed. He fumbles frantically for a lock or key. 

_I'm hallucinating. Or in a coma. Possibly dead. Dead sounds the most plausible. This is the afterlife paying me back for scaring Rhodey with that mask after watching It._

His thoughts are racing, but he manages to find and twist the key, and he leans with his back against the door. He's not sure what good a wooden door is against a marble creature ( _Jesus fucking fuck!_ ) but it's the only thing Tony has. 

"Aww, Tony, don't be like that," James croons on the other side of the wall, making Tony's skin crawl as he frantically looks around the room for something to fight with. 

"We've seen your fantasy, _Tony._ " The last is almost a whisper, floating through the room like a breeze of draught. 

_What the fuck? What fantasy?_

"Always the top man, always in charge," the ghostly voice continues, making goosebumps appear on Tony's arms and neck. There's nothing even remotely useful in the room, just the cane he's holding onto with a grip that turns his knuckles white. 

"So much responsibility, so many decisions to make… don't you sometimes wish someone takes your choice away?"

Something is happening before Tony can pretend it's not true. It's like a fog drifts up from the carpet and Tony blinks in hopes to dispel it, but it slowly solidifies into the shape of a man. 

"We're here to… oblige," the spectre grins. 

"Go fuck yourself, Casper," Tony bites out, sounding braver than he feels. Especially when the spectre floats closer. 

"Tried that, wasn't nearly as much fun." The face is taking shape, taking on James' features, but hollow somehow, translucent, and utterly terrifying. 

Tony misses the tendril sneaking towards him over the floor until it touches him. It burns, ice that races up to his thigh and then dies out, leaving his entire leg feeling numb and not painful anymore. 

Before Tony can react a marble hand crashes through the wall.

"Run, little mouse," spectre James chuckles.

Tony jerks into action. He pulls open the door and runs into hallway, narrowly avoiding a marble arm flailing to grab him. 

He runs down the stairs and turns right, knowing the corridor there will lead directly to the front door. Expect it doesn't. The corridor now turns round the corner, and again, and again. What?

He runs and runs, twisting and turning in a never ending series of lefts and rights.

He knows this is a nightmare, it can't be anything else. Houses don't shift, ghosts don't exist, and marble doesn't come to life; just like he has never, _ever_ told anyone about how he sometimes fantasizes about being chased like this, about being held down and _used_ until he's a sore, sobbing mess. Those fantasies have never left the confines of his head, so it stands to reason that this is all playing out in his head as well. 

His head is a creepy fucking place, and he swears he'll never watch another horror movie ever again, as he turns another corner.

He skids to a halt. This time the corridor ends in a dead end, with James and his marble freak waiting for him. James looks human again, complete with robe and somehow pink fuzzy slippers? -- which cements Tony's conviction he's living his own nightmare. The statue looms next to him with a huge marble erection, standing proud like a Priapus of yore.

Tony backs away again. He might've fantasized about this, and this might only be a dream, but still his heart is jackhammering in his ears as fear coats his throat and makes his limbs feel like jelly. ~~Which is part of the thrill isn't it?~~

His back hits the wall, and he wants to turn around and run again, but now _he_ is at the dead end. He's surrounded by walls, and at his front James and the statue saunter closer. 

"Hello, little mouse, how did you like my maze?" James grins, as pleasantly as before. "Seems like you found the cheese…" James makes actual, honest to God _jazzhands_ , and this is the moment Tony realizes he's gone over the edge and is now certified cuckoo. 

He's still absolutely certain he doesn't want James any nearer. ~~Except he does.~~

"You're not real, you're not real, you're not real…" he repeats, like this incantation will make him wake up. 

~~He wonders how they will hold him down.~~

James pouts, and briefly lets his shoulders slump forward, the picture of disappointment. "That's no way to talk to your generous host, now is it?"

When he straightens Tony notices his pajama bottoms are bulging around what's undoubtedly an erection, and with embarrassment he feels his own cock rapidly filling. 

~~Who will have him first?~~

"Steven?" James motions with his head for the marble man to approach Tony. "We've dallied long enough."

The statue steps forward, his motions fluid and graceful belying his stone appearance. Tony plasters his back against the wall as dread makes it hard to think. Up close he notices the statue has shocking blue eyes, which still strikes as odd, despite the absurdity of the situation. 

"Please," Tony whispers. ~~Pleading for what?~~ The marble man's face softens, he actually looks sort of friendly, before bending his face to Tony's ear. 

"Behave," he tells Tony in a voice full of gravel, before putting his hands on Tony's shoulders and turning him with his face to the wall. 

_This is it. Please no no no._ ~~_Yes yes_ ~~

Tony waits -- every millisecond during ages -- acutely aware of the strength in the marble man's hands. 

~~Will he hold Tony up against the wall for James? Or is James the kind that likes to watch as Tony squirms on a marble cock?~~

"Much better," James praises, suddenly very close. He strokes Tony's cheek with one finger, and Tony twists his head and tries to bite him. 

James pulls his hand out of reach before he can, and sighs deeply. "Have it your way."

Suddenly the upper half of the wall in front of Tony's face shimmers and disappears, and the statue forces Tony to bend forward. Before he realizes what's happening the wall shimmers back in place, but now Tony's top half is on one side, and his bottom half on the other. 

He screams. 

He thrashes and screams until his voice gives out and helpless tears stream down his face. 

This is so much worse than his fantasies. ~~It's better.~~

Nothing happens. Nothing happens, which is the worst part of it all. He doesn't know what they're doing on the other side, doesn't even know they're there. He's forced to hang here and wait, looking at a garish flowery wallpaper in an otherwise empty room. 

"There," James' voice suddenly sounds, and it's like it echoes off the walls. "That's a good boy."

_Oh God oh God oh God oh--_

Hands on his hips. 

Tony can't feel if they're human or stone. He can't feel and the not knowing kills him, and Tony starts to thrash again, making the hands disappear. ~~Please come back.~~

"Tony, Tony, Tony. This will take a good long while if you keep misbehaving like that." James sounds almost bored, and Tony jerks reflexively at a finger stroking along the inside of his thigh. 

"Please let me go," Tony whispers. ~~Please punish me.~~

"Now where is the fun in that?"

The hands are back and ever so slowly pull at the waistband of Tony's pants. 

_No no no no no_

~~yes yes yes~~

Tony's crying. He cries when cold air hits the skin of his ass, and sobs when the pants are pulled further down and his cock is pulled free. 

Cold hands, unmistakingly marble, pull his cheeks apart, baring his most intimate and vulnerable parts. 

He's so aroused that his cock almost hurts, leaking precome that drips along his sensitive shaft. 

"There. This is so much better, isn't it?" James praises. 

Tony shakes his head, without caring if James can see. He doesn't want this. ~~He does.~~

The cold hands disappear, to make room for James' on Tony's hips, and without any kind of warning Tony feels the blunt head of a cock press at his entrance, slick with lube. 

"You can't just fuck me unprepared!" Tony yells, thrashing again, but now his ankles are being pinned into place by marble hands, and all he can do is hammer at the wall with his fists. 

"You'll find I can and I will," James states matter of factly, and the pressure at his hole builds and builds, _hurting him_ \-- ~~but it hurts so good~~ \-- until the pressure breaks and James' cock slides inside. 

Tony's whimpers turn into moans, and turn into sobs when James doesn't press further, but pulls back, the pressure building again but now the other way, _hurting hurting hurting,_ until the head passes past Tony's rim, leaving him hollow and empty. 

James' hands move from Tony's hips to his cheeks, pulling them apart again, and Tony can't do anything but take it, his face flushing in embarrassment. 

"Look at that, Steve, isn't that the sweetest looking hole? All pink and firm." Tony's insides squirm with shame at the condescending tone, at _liking_ being talked about like this. "Let's see if we can ruin it, shall we?"

James' chuckle precedes his cock pressing in again, faster this time, hurting more and feeling better. He pushes farther, right against Tony's prostate, and Tony cries out.

"Steve, go occupy his mouth, it's distracting," James orders, and the wall next to Tony disappears to let Steve step through. 

Tony's mouth automatically starts to water, conveniently placed at the height of the marble man's cock. 

~~What will it taste like? Can marble statues _come_?~~

But Tony's not far enough gone yet, still holds onto himself, onto control, and when the man steps closer he shakes his head and presses his lips together. 

"Suit yourself," James says as the marble man cups Tony's jaw with a tenderness that again brings tears to Tony's eyes. 

"Don't be afraid, we won't hurt you," the giant tells Tony and strokes his thumb over Tony's lower lip. 

"Much," James chuckles, and slams his hips against Tony's ass, stretching him, claiming him, and Tony yells. In agony or pleasure, he can't tell anymore. 

The marble man takes the opportunity to shove his cock past Tony's parted lips, and it's like a switch turns. 

His thoughts stop racing and his insides settle when the marble cock bumps the back of Tony's throat. He chokes on it, there's no give when his throat tries to swallow, and it's not when he thinks he might suffocate that the statue pulls back. 

This is how they break him. 

James fucks him without mercy, each thrust hitting him deeper than Tony had ever thought possible. Every thrust pushes him onto the marble man's cock, choking him until he sees stars. 

At some point the pressure builds and all his muscles tighten and he tumbles over the edge, but it doesn't matter. 

James keeps fucking him, chasing his own release without caring about Tony's. Tony shudders and moans, so overstimulated there's nothing left of him but static noise, just a body jostled between two cocks. 

When James' movements suddenly stutter and he fills Tony's inside with hot seed, they switch. Tony gets to suckle James' soft dick as the marble man, _Steve_ , impales him from behind. 

Steve's cock is so big the stretch hurts all over again, despite the pounding James gave him. 

He must be crying again, because James wipes his cheeks dry and smiles down at Tony. "Such a good cocksleeve, I have half a mind to keep you. Huh, Steve?" James pushes his cock further into Tony's mouth, robbing him of the ability, the _need_ , to answer. 

Tony doesn't know how long he floats like that. James' limp cock in his mouth -- his head kept in place by James' grip on his hair -- and Steve ravaging his hole. He's sore all over. Sore and exhausted, but sated and relaxed like he's never been before. It's all good. 

They might've switched another time? Maybe they leave him alone for a little bit, come oozing from his sore ass while he waits to be filled again? Maybe they do?

  
  


He wakes up to sunlight on his face. The smell of fresh bread wafts through the air, and when he cracks open an eye he sees he's in the guestroom James left him yesterday, before…

Tony is dressed like he was yesterday. His ass and jaw aren't sore, his ankle is. He cautiously dips his hand in his pants, but there's no sign at all he had sex yesterday, let alone suffered the abuse that he… that he dreamt of. 

His morning wood takes an interest as recollections of his dream takes centre stage in his brain, but he resolutely ignores it. It's bad enough he dreamt these things about his host, he'll not do James the dishonour of jerking off to it under his roof. That's a thing for later. 

Tony gingerly makes his way to the hall with help of the cane, and manages to find the kitchen without incident. 

James is at work there, humming to himself as he's rolling croissants into their crescent shapes. He doesn't look anything like the creepy lord of the manor of Tony's dream, in his jeans and shirt and a jaunty apron that spells _if you don't like my cooking, have another glass of wine._

When he spots Tony he smiles, a beautiful thing Tony could easily fall in love with, and then supplies him with the perfect coffee Tony most definitely is in love with. 

"Hope the storm didn't keep you up?" James asks, as he sits down across from Tony. "How's your ankle?"

It's nice. It's the nicest morning-after Tony has ever had. Apparently James recently inherited the property from some great uncle and is trying to fix her up. James is funny and generous and of course drop dead gorgeous, and he feeds Tony delicious breakfast foods. 

It's so nice that they forget the time as they talk, and it's nearing noon when they finally walk to the front entrance to take Tony into town. 

In the warm autumn sunlight the house looks like a home in need of some care, and Tony's dream seems very far away. When they pass the study Tony looks in for the hell of it, and even the statues don't seem as creepy anymore as they did yesterday. 

He almost walks on reassured but then the giant Tony's brain had dubbed Steve winks at him. 

Well, shit.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think! This is my first time writing something as dark as this...


End file.
